Walls Between Us
by Osidiano
Summary: Drabble set after the end of PW3. A look at Iris's feelings during one of Phoenix's routine visits. mild spoilers . Iris/Phoenix


Disclaimer/Note: I do not own the Phoenix Wright games, or any of the characters mentioned in this story. They belong to the series' creator and Capcom. I am not making any money from this, so please do not sue me. This story was written solely for my own amusement and that of anyone choosing to read it. The fic takes place some time after the end of Phoenix Wright 3: Trials and Tribulations, and contains minor spoilers for the final case. Enjoy.

** Walls Between Us**

He looked tired when he smiled at her from just beyond the glass that separated them, dark smudges under his blue eyes confessing to the sleepless nights that she was certain he would deny if questioned on. Everything was always fine with him when he was there; he never talked about the tough cases he took on, never complained about the long periods of unemployment between each client, or the bills that she knew he could not pay because of it. He did not talk about the paperwork that was waiting for him back at the office when he left. She returned his gentle smile with a quiet pride, a muted passion that she could not voice here. He was always so strong when she saw him, and he was always smiling fearlessly when he visited her.

She supposed that that was one of the reasons that she loved him.

Of course, to be honest, she had fallen for him long before he had ever passed the Bar exam and the many murder trials and manufactured testimonies had hardened him into the skeptical man that he had become. Years ago, when becoming an attorney was still a far away dream, when he spoke of defending the innocents with a bright and childish exuberance, she had fallen in love with his sincerity. He had been pursuing a bachelor's degree in drama, once upon a time, and had confided in her that he wanted to be an actor. Not a big name in movies or TV shows, but a _real _actor, the kind who brought run-down stages to life with magic and fervor. He would grin broadly at her, exclaiming that a life of poverty was worth the joy and entertainment of performing on a small, broken down stage for people who really needed a reason to smile again. It was that slightly awkward idealism so prevalent in little boys that had made him so easy to love, and his transformation into a man had only caused her feelings for him to grow.

In a way, she imagined that he had become an actor who brought smiles and joy to people who no longer believed that they had any room for happiness in their lives.

Though she had only ever seen him in the courtroom once before, when she was charged with murder and he had bravely taken up her case nearly a year ago, she remembered the way that he flung himself head first into every contradiction, not caring that he had not thought it all the way through yet. He believed in his clients until the very end, and fought valiantly for them. He carried the fires of justice within him, and anyone watching would devote their attention solely to him and his often wild theories. People loved to watch him work, and the clients that he represented felt safe and at ease with him at their defense. He was practically a legend now. He brought the proceeding to life like no one else could, made people believe in the justness of the judiciary system the same way that he did.

He was a truly brilliant man.

Slowly, she placed a hand on the glass between them, pained that they were so close but still seemed to very far away. She longed for the day that her sentence would be over, prayed for freedom each night that she spent in her cell in the vague hope that she might be able to hold his hand or touch his face one last time. It had been years, she knew that, but she trusted in the strength of her feelings, and harbored the steadfast conviction that he felt the same, regardless of how illogical the belief may be. She did not even know if it was possible to rekindle a flame from almost seven years ago, especially given her current circumstance.

Still, she could not bring herself to consider the likelihood that he had moved on.

"Feenie. . ." she began, but did not know where to go next, and tapered off into silence. He placed his hand on the surface of the glass over hers, and she imagined that she could feel the warmth of his palm seeping through it. There were tears building in her eyes, and she willed herself not to cry in front of him. _You can't cry until it's all over_. . .

"You'll never believe what happened the other day, Iris," Phoenix said after a moment, his smile growing as he spoke, taking on a somewhat sheepish and boyish tone. "Maya finally took Pearls out to see one of those live performances for their new favorite show, _The Silver Samurai_. . .I've told you about that show, haven't I?"

"N-No," Iris answered with a giggle, blushing slightly and averting her gaze. It was nice that they never had to talk about the past, that Phoenix did everything that he could to include her in his life. She hoped that one day she could repay him. "No, Feenie, you didn't."

"Well, see, Maya has this thing for samurai shows directed at kids, and Pearls likes anything that Maya does, so. . ."


End file.
